


Metamorphosis

by RizGriz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Castiel Comforts Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Coda, Couple for a Case, Dean Winchester's a Good Bro, Dean raised Sam, Dean's gay panic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s14e15 Peace of Mind, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, Haunting, Holding Hands, Hunting Husbands, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Domestic Violence, Puppy eyes, Salt and Burn the Bones (Supernatural), Sam is trying really hard, Sharing a Bed, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Undercover as a Couple, angel possession, based on the kitchen scene from the episode trailer, let me be weak, let me sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-02 21:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RizGriz/pseuds/RizGriz
Summary: In the aftermath of Michael, Sam turns to hunting to stay away from the bunker, Dean is struggling post archangel possession, and Castiel is just trying to be there for the brothers. No matter how much Dean wants to sleep it all off, Sam pulls them away to a sleepy wedding town where a groom is murdered every five years. Team Free Will navigates their way through what it means now that Michael is gone, the case takes a turn that no one can help, Dean and Castiel’s love-sick doe eyes finally lead somewhere, and they all discover what the future could look like for them.Based off the kitchen scene from 14x15.





	Metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

> hey, so I can't thank WeldersMightyB enough for editing this and making sure beautiful art!! This is the first writing bang I've ever done and it's been awesome!!
> 
> I really hope you like it!!!

“Hey, just found a case, you ready?” asked Sam, popping his head around the door frame of the kitchen.

Dean stopped chewing for a moment, frustration flashing across his face.

“Dude, we just got back,” he said.

“I know, but this seems important,” said Sam, stepping into the kitchen. Castiel took the papers Sam held out. He looked them over quickly and shrugged in agreement.

“Sleep is important, Sam,” said Dean.

“Well, I’m gonna leave in a few hours, with or without you,” replied Sam, taking the papers back from Cas. Dean huffed quietly and took another bite of his sandwich. Castiel turned back to Dean, giving him a knowing look.

“We should go with him,” Cas said slowly, “the case looked like it could be fairly dangerous; he shouldn’t work it alone.”

“I know that, Cas, but I just wanted one night at the bunker,” Dean let his head drop, tired eyes closing.

“I understand, but this is just like you,” said Castiel, stepping around the counter to stand near Dean, who’s head shot up.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dean, this is exactly what you’ve done every time.” Cas shook his head slightly, “You did this with Hell, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain, Amara, even Michael!” Cas’ eyes bore into Dean’s, his rough voice full of conviction.  
“Maybe, but that’s not me anymore. I can’t do that. I can’t just throw myself in again and again without something giving; and right now, it feels like my back.” he said, rolling his shoulders

“That may be so, but Sam is feeling compelled to help people right now. I don’t know why he feels that way, but I would rather him not hunt alone.” Castiel said with finality.

Dean breathed deeply, bracing his hands on the counter. He saw it– Sam was falling into the same patterns he had seen in his own actions. Simultaneously running from his problems, yet also coming all that much closer to them.

“And what happens when, after this case, he finds another, and another, and another?” asked Dean, eyes darting around the counter concerned by the thought of Sam being sucked into a circle of chasing after a reprieve he’d never find.

“That’s a bridge we’ll burn when we cross it.”

“That not-” started Dean, but he decided not to correct Cas, “yeah, fine,” He glanced up at Cas, their eyes were both tired, and Dean knew Cas and him were gonna end up talking about this again. “So what’re we gonna do with the kid?”

“I’ll sort that out,” Castile stepped closer, eyes raking up and down Dean’s frame. “You aren’t sleeping.”

“What kind of question is that?”

“It’s not a question, you aren’t sleeping well; I knew that when you were fighting Michael, but now, it seems to be something else.” said Castiel reaching out and wrapping his hand around Dean’s wrist. “You know you can come to me with any of your problems. I feel as though we all should have learned not to keep things from each other when it can be helped.”

“Just because I’m a little behind on sleep doesn’t mean anything, Cas.” Dean replied, tersely. Castiel’s eyes bore deeply into Dean’s, his face set in a grim expression, dark circles matching under both their eyes. 

“Very well, Dean.”

~

“Jack, this is Donatello. He has a little experience in the whole soulless thing,” said Sam, gesturing to the portly man in the doorway.

“Hello! Come in, come in, why don’t you,” said Donatello, waving Jack in. “We’ll have ample time to talk, and I heard you like to ask plenty of questions!”

“Yes, I do! Sam says questions will answer each other if you ask enough of them!” Jack said as his head swiveled around the airy house.

“Well I’m sure Donatello can answer a ton of your questions, Jack.” Sam said, his hand falling on Jack’s shoulder.

~

They were flying down the dark road at 80 mph, the local rock station pouring out of the Impala’s speakers, Dean behind the wheel, Sam riding shotgun, Castiel between them in the backseat. Fields flew past them as they neared Cocoa, Nebraska.

Dean felt a wave of nausea rollover him. He sucked in a breath quietly, knowing a headache was building from the pressure behind his eyes. A car passed them on the other side of the road and the light pierced into Dean’s brain, upping the pressure.

A gas station hugged the side of the road up ahead, and Dean pulled into a pump, waving it off as the Impala needing more juice. Sam pumped as Dean went to the bathroom, Cas’ gaze following him the whole way.

Dean locked himself inside the bathroom, breathing deeply through the pain radiating towards the base of his skull. He kneaded the skin on the back of this neck and shut his eyes to block out the light.

He stayed like that just long enough for it to seem strange. Walking back to the car, he felt the vertigo hit him and slight spots appeared before his eyes. Fishing the keys from his pocket, Dean threw them at Sam.

“You drive for a while, Sammy,” Sam gave him an incredulous look, but caught the keys and got in the driver’s side anyways.  
Dean settled into the passenger’s seat, forehead against the cool glass, feeling Castiel’s gaze settle onto him again.  
~~

Dean threw his duffel down on the bed nearest the door, searching through it to find his white button down shirt. Sam had mapped out the game plan just before they pulled into town—Dean and Cas would interview family and friends, Sam would go to the police station, and they’d meet up at a diner to review everything.

It was a solid plan, considering that it was already late in the afternoon, creeping into evening. Dean had decided after his headache had mostly passed that Sam should take point on this one. It wasn’t Dean’s case; it wasn’t Dean’s hero complex motivating them.

Cas had stalled them as Sam got the address of the police station, walking the four blocks leaving Baby with Dean. As soon as Sam closed the door Castiel rounded on Dean.

“I know you would rather not be here, Dean, but thank you. I know you are not feeling your best,” said Castiel. He stood near the tiny motel table, back dropped by gaudy orange wallpaper.

“I feel fine, Cas, and yes–I know you’ve been watching me,” said Dean, turning away from the angel.

“Dean, we both know you’re not at 100%, and that’s fine!” Castiel pressed. Dean scoffed, pulling a tie from his duffle. “Dean, you were possessed by an archangel, there is no reason for you not to feel the physical effects, especially considering how hard you pushed yourself to contain him.”

“How hard I–I just did what was right, Cas!” objected Dean.

“Dean, it was a feat not many others could have done, even Sam struggled after his possession! Do you not remember how he suffered? Did you really expect to be the exception?” Castiel pressed him, demanding an explanation.

“I’m not an exception if there is no rule, Cas,” said Dean as he buttoned up his shirt, tie hanging around his neck.

“Sam and Nick are the only people to have been possessed by an archangel and survive that we know of, and their bodies rebelled, Dean. The fact that insanity hasn’t set in is already a miracle,” said Castiel, turning Dean to face him. “Dean, your body is struggling to cope, and being so active over the past few weeks hasn’t made any of this easier. You are hurting, Dean; if you would just admit it then we could help you.”

Dean’s eyes got shiny staring into Cas’, barely breathing, pausing for a long moment before taking a shuddering breath and blinking away the moisture in his eyes.

“We need to get going if we wanna meet Sam after,” he said, looking away, eyes haunted with a distant look. Castiel couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He had been so close and yet Dean refused to open up any more than what he could not feasibly hold inside. Yet he let Dean turn away, knowing he would return to the subject until Dean either opened up or internalized it so deeply it no longer showed on the surface.

~~

Sam was waiting in a booth tucked into a quiet corner at the diner down the street from their motel. He had called Jack asking him how his first day had gone and apparently Jack had had an exciting day asking Donatello about their adventures. Jack had talked to Sam for almost half an hour, Sam hardly interrupting him, just settling back and ordering a coffee to burn time waiting for Dean and Castiel.

The bell on the door jingled and Sam’s head shot up, leaning over the table to look past the patrons at the counter to see. He recognized Castiel’s trench coat standing out against the cherry red upholstery. The angel wandered through the tables until he dropped down across from Sam.

“Hey Cas, where’s Dean?” asked Sam. Castiel glanced out the window.

“Claire called us on the way here, I talked to her for a bit, so Dean’s just finishing up.” said Castiel. He breathed deeply worrying his thumbs together, “Dean’s much better at this type of stuff than I am. He has a sort of magic touch.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I remember this kid once, years ago, that wouldn’t talk, but Dean? Dean understood him like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. “He just got it.”

“I think Claire may like him more, but I suppose that isn’t surprising. But, Sam, I wanted to talk to you about Dean quickly.”

“I know, Cas. I’ve been pushing him away. I know that isn’t good for anyone,”

“Sam, it’s more than that,” Castiel took a pause, shifting slightly. “I think Dean may be coming to the end of his rope, so to speak. I feel as though he is unknowingly coming to the end of his desire to hunt. He seems to be having doubts of whether or not he can truly continue.”

Sam sat back to Castiel’s words. Dean walking away from the hunt? Not even three years ago that thought was impossible, but now? Sam could see how Dean might be pulling away.

“Sure, it’s been rough,” Sam starts slowly, “but it also has been for a long time, he has always come back around. What would make this any different?”

“I know that you Winchesters have a bit of a curse. I also know how rough it’s always been for Dean, but it feels like something has changed this time. As though this time he can see where he has failed himself –he has even admitted that he can no longer do those things.”

“What things?” asks Sam, face pulling slightly in thought.

“Throwing himself into hunts, drowning himself is liquor, getting so caught up in avoiding the problem that he starts forgetting himself,” listed off Castiel.

“So exactly what I’m doing…” said Sam after a moment.

“No-”

“No, what?” asked Dean, sliding into the booth beside Castiel.

“I said Claire likes you better because of Baby,” feigned Sam.

“You wish, Sammy, she likes me because I’m cooler than you two eggheads.”

“Whatever, Dean,” Sam’s lips pulled into a quick smile at Dean’s rebuttal, pulling out his phone. “I got pictures of the scene. It’s all pretty undisturbed, so the guy didn’t fight back other than scratching at his neck and hitting a dresser on the way down.”  
Dean leaned across the table to see the pictures on Sam’s phone, swiping through a few different angles taken by the investigators.

“Huh, how’d he die?” asked Dean, glancing up from the screen, “You never said.”

“So get this, strangled by his own tie while alone in the dressing room less than an hour before his wedding,”  
Dean nodded and passed the phone back as he sat back thinking.

“We talked to some family members, apparently they were from out of town, traveling for the event,” said Castiel. “We were only able to speak to a few people. The victim’s mother said everything was going well, that he was a very open person and would have come to her or his fiancé if anything had changed.”

“Well it’s not like this case could have been a suicide. The tie strangled him but it wasn’t tied to anything and there were nail mark on it, so he tried to get it off,” said Dean.

“Haunted item?” suggested Castiel.

“Maybe, but the tie was new, it was part of his wedding clothes,” said Sam.

“Haunted room?” suggested Dean

“Maybe, but there’s nothing to suggest that,” said Castiel.

“What do you mean, ‘every five years’?” asked Sam, glancing between his brother and the angel.

“When we went to see the family of the dead groom, the grandmother said she told them, quote, ‘Shouldn’t go messing with that church, when it was so close to being five years since the last death, no reason to tempt fate,’” said Dean. “So I looked it up when we left and sure enough, every five years going back to 1958, a groom dies sometime before he gets married. Not always killed on the property either, the only thing they have in common was that they were getting married at that church.”

“So we need to get into the church, but it’s only Thursday, they won’t be having a service until Sunday morning, maybe Saturday evening at the soonest,” said Sam.

“Well,” started Castiel, trailing off a little. “They don’t run church services, only special occasions–weddings, funerals, baptisms, senior bingo–so we’ll need an excuse to get in.”

“So do we pretend a family member is dead?”

“I think it would be best if we were straight forward and just said we were getting married. A funeral would raise questions about where the body was now, when they would be getting it, and they’d want to finalize everything there and then.” said Castiel, gauging the brother’s reactions.

“Okay,” said Sam slowly, “so who’s marrying who?”

Dean glanced between the two as they stared at him. Leaning away slightly, Dean huffed.

“Really guys? So me and Cas are gonna be fake engaged and have Sasquatch over here be our maid of honor?” he said, pulling a face.

“Yeah, basically,” replied Sam, barely hiding his amusement. Dean’s eyes shot between them. Letting out another huff, Dean slumped back in the booth, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll call after dinner to see if they’ll take us tomorrow for a tour or whatever,” relented Dean.

Castiel nodded, glancing at his watch. Dean shot him a look.

“Got somewhere to be, Cas?” he asked.

“I promised to check in on Jack and Donatello before they went to bed,” replied Castiel, “I’ll have to leave soon, so Jack won’t worry,”

“Okay, we’ll see you later, I guess,” said Dean, sliding out of the booth to let Castiel out. Castiel gave the brothers a small smile before making his way out of the busy diner, just as the waitress made her way over.

~~

“Niomi!” Castiel walked through the empty halls of heaven, a far cry from Donatello’s cozy home, calling out the name of an angel he hoped he would never ask a favor of. “Niom–”

“I’m right here, Castiel, there’s no need to yell.” Naomi said cooly.

“I'm here to work out a deal with you,”

“You're not in a position to be making deals,” she said with a sharp edge in her voice.

“Well, I have to try anyways, so here I am.” he said gruffly.

“What could you possibly offer me, and what could you want?”

“I want heaven to take the Winchester brothers while they are still alive, along with Jack. Put them in their Heaven and leave them be without either of them dying. In return? I would stay in heaven as well and you would have the guaranteed safety of another angel.” Castiel proposed.

“Besides the silliness of putting live people in heaven, who’s to says I need you here, Castiel?” Naomi sneared.

“Because the tiny number of angels left is no secret, and I have seen first hand how poorly heaven is maintaining itself–losing even one more angel could close the pearly gates for good and that would be bad for business.” he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug when Naomi’s face soured at the truth.

She looked him up and down, silently weighing her choices. Turning on the ball of her foot she stalked down the hall.

“I'll consider your proposition but I make no guarantees.” she called back.

~~

Both Sam and Dean were asleep when Castiel returned from checking on Jack and Donatello, Sam tucked into the motel bed nearest the bathroom. Castiel turned around the corner into the kitchenette area. Dean had fallen asleep on the only couch, which sat across from the old tube tv that was playing reruns of Dr. Sexy. Sitting down next to him, Castiel raked his eyes across Dean’s prone body, stress present even in his sleep, muscles tense.

Castiel gently lifted one of Dean’s hands from where it lay next to his face, and softly started kneading the hand as if rubbing in lotion. Sadness was etched on the angel’s face–worry, concern, longing, love, a deep seated need to comfort Dean– seemingly overwhelming emotions that he was unable to express. This delicate touch made Castiel feel more in touch with Dean, as if he could gently wring the pain away. Ever since Michael had breached Dean’s mind, the angel felt disconnected; he didn’t have the insight that he once did, he could not seem to get a true feel for where Dean was in his mind. Dean’s mind was a delicate thing, easily set off balance. His mind could be in shambles, an emotional graveyard of sorts, and yet he carried on solving problems, taking care of others, pushing through. However, this time, it would not be as simple as giving a wound time to heal.

Castiel continued his ministrations working further up Dean’s wrist and forearm. Dean had not slept almost any in the last several weeks, between Michael trying to force his way out, to recovering from angel possession, he had avoided his bed at nearly all costs.

Castiel slowed his actions pausing to hold Dean’s hand, bringing his undisposed hand up to swipe his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone, brushing his hand through his short hair, and holding his jaw softly. Dean stirred softly, piercing green eyes opening just a little to blearily look up at Castiel and made a soft noise in the back of this throat. Castiel shushed him softly, sitting him up gently and helping him stand. Dean, still mostly asleep, shuffled easily as Castiel guided him to the other bed. Eyes cloudy with sleep, hair spiked from his shower, clothes warm and mused, leaning into Castiel’s shoulder, tucking his face into the angel’s neck, breathing deeply, Castiel’s arm wrapped around his back, curving into Dean’s side as he led him sleepily across the room, laying him on the turned down sheets, before tucking the blankets around Dean’s shoulders.

Castiel sat down on the mattress next to Dean, watching as he fell back into a deep sleep. He took a risk, pulling off his trench coat and blazer, settling on the bed, taking one of Dean’s hands into his own. He relaxed against the hard headboard, gazing at Dean until the sun began to rise. Even then, as Sam stirred, Castiel only let go of Dean’s hand. Sam sat up and looked at Castiel for a long moment before nodding knowingly and heading to the bathroom.

~~

As far as Dean was concerned, this was a horrible idea. How could Cas and him play an engaged couple? Whoever was showing them around would know it was a farce as soon one of them started talking. But it was too late, Sam had called the church office, an appointment scheduled for the next day.

And now here they were, waiting for the secretary to get the auxiliary keys.

“How does the secretary not have the keys?” asked Dean, throwing his hands out. Cas and Sam didn’t bother to answer as the secretary came back into view.

“Sorry about that guys,” said Gavin, the church secretary, waving the three men to follow him into the side hall of the church, a big open area with round table set up in a neat pattern.

The tables were wiped clean, the scent of Pine-Sol and bleach still vaguely in the air from the last event. It had a very ‘church basement but brighter’ feel. Gavin started listing off maximum occupancy, the recommended room set up, and what color pallets the church already had accommodations for.

“Do you guys have any colors in mind or a theme chosen?” he asked. Dean tore his eyes away from the room to glance at Gavin, mind turning over with a lie.

“We’re thinking red and blue, it might be a little 4th of July, but it shouldn’t be too bad if we get the right shade,” Dean said , bluffing quickly. He shot a wide eyed glance at Sam who gave him a slightly affronted look back.

“Oh, that’ll be so nice!” Gavin said wholeheartedly, “I’ll show you the courtyard; it’s a great place for photos,”

The three men followed after the secretary, Dean refusing to look at his brother or the angel. Castiel walked up next to Dean.

“That was a very quick answer,” he stated.

“Well, you always wear blue, so...” Dean trailed off a bit, not knowing what else to add.

“And you like red,” said Castiel as he took hold of Deans left hand, making him jump slightly at the surprise contact. The angel’s fingers intertwined with Dean’s just as Gavin stopped on the paver pathway to elaborate, his eyes lighting up at the sight of them holding hands.

They made it into the main sanctuary before Sam could feign the need for a bathroom in order to search for anything suspicious without Gavin’s watchful gaze. Sam was probably surveying the crime scene as Dean and Cas pretended to be the peak of premarital bliss. It wasn’t really as hard as it seemed—unless every couple Gavin had ever met was a phoney.

Dean was still vaguely tense against Cas, his hand got warm and he felt like a tween at his first dance, hand sweaty, movement awkward, not making eye contact. They walked hand in hand through the rest of the tour and Sam rejoined them with a quick nod as they wandered through the pews.

“I’m sure you’re looking at all your options, but I hope you’ll consider us. We would do everything in our power to make sure your wedding day goes as smoothly as possible,” said Gavin as they came back to where they had begun the tour, nearly forty minutes ago.

“Thank you, we’ll definitely keep this place in mind,” Castiel flashed a soft smile, eyes darting quickly to Dean.  
Only when they got back to the impala did Castiel let go of Dean’s hand.

“Cas, I know you don’t sweat, but your hand is so warm!” said Dean indignantly, Sam smirking at them.

“I tried to make my hand warmer, Claire has told me I can feel cold,” replied Cas, folding himself into the backseat.

“Oh, yeah, no it was fine,” said Dean. His mind was still caught up on what just happened. He had spent almost an hour holding hands with Cas. He shook his head slightly, berating his wandering mind. “What did you find, Sam?”

“The EMF in the groom suite was still pretty high after almost a week, but no current active; It really seems to be on a cycle.”

“So, we need to figure out who’s haunting this place and what they’re connected to,” said Dean.

“Could just be a salt-n-burn,” said Cas.

“Could be; something seems weird,” replied Dean as the engine turned over.

~~

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the church, Dean,” said Castiel as he slid into the passenger side of the impala. After the church, Sam had wanted to check newspaper clippings at the local library. They had spent hours looking through every suspicious event going back the last seventy years. Dean had been going stir crazy, until Sam huffed and told Dean to ‘get something for dinner and stop twitching.’

“No, man, I get what you were going for—It would have seemed weird otherwise,” said Dean smoothly. Truth was, as strangely warm as Cas’ hand had been, it had been nice. There was something about being close to someone important to you that was, dare he say, comforting? Sam and him rarely ever connected physically, just a quick hug before certain doom, as one does. But this was something small, yet extended and significant, which was something he hadn’t had since Lisa. “Either way, now we pretty much know what we’re dealing with.”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Cas as he drove through the sleepy streets to a nearby diner. He felt guilty brushing off the gentle act. Dean shook off the feeling as they pulled into the gravel parking lot.

~~

Sam sat on the steps of the library as Dean and Castiel pulled into one of the spaces near the building just as the last employ left. Dean pulled a large brown paper bag from the seat between Castiel and himself.

Sam got up off the steps, walking over to the pair as Dean dug cardboard soup cups out of the paper bag he had set on the hood.

“Heavy dinner rush, so they didn’t have a ton of options,” Dean said tossing a plastic spoon at Sam. “Apparently we aren’t the only ones in town because of the recent death. There’s tons of speculation about if it’s connected to any of the deaths before. A ton of college age bloggers are setting up camp.”

“Well, that is how we heard about it,” he reasoned, taking one of the soup cups. “But anyways, I think I know where it all started.”

“Are they buried in town?” asked Castiel.

“Actually, I think it has to do with a woman by the name of Dorothy Myers. She went missing in 1953 on her fifth wedding anniversary. Her husband remarried three months later, and five years after Dorothy went missing, the first groom was killed.”

“So we don’t have a grave—great,” says Dean blowing on his soup as he leans against the side panel the impala, sporting a full bitchface. “Do we have any idea what happened to her? I mean, if it’s her, then she must be dead.”

“Is the husband alive?” asked Castiel.

“Yeah, he still lives in their house; he’s getting pretty up there in years, though.” Sam said.

“He may have been cheating if he remarried that quickly; he might know something about her disappearance.” Castiel stated. Dean nodded as he pushed saltines into his soup. Sam could tell his mind was working through the whole case.

“Was the vic just strangled?” he asked suddenly, standing up a little straighter.

“Umn, the coroner’s report says,” Sam shifted through paperwork sitting on the hood, “that he had bruising on his neck, some scratches on his throat too, a cut on his hip from hitting a dresser, and his left ring finger was broken.”

“Yeah, I think we need to talk to the husband,” Dean said quickly, tipping the last of his soup into his mouth. Dean’s mind was set on some kind of theory. “Do you have the address, Sammy?”

Sam grabbed his papers and climbed into the passenger side, nodding, as Dean threw the paper bag into the car. Castiel hadn’t seemed to connect whatever idea Dean had either, and the angel just climbed in the back, following Sam’s lead.

~~

Dean’s stomach rolled with unease. He felt a sick sense of what might have happened to poor Dorothy. Betting her livelihood on a man she didn’t know was unfaithful just for him to turn around and marry another girl the moment she was gone. Dean understood what it was like to be dependent on an unreliable person. He could count on his hands the number of times John had made it back when he promised.

And for as much as Dean had loved and looked up to his father, the truth would always be there – John wasn’t there when they needed him most. Dean didn’t understand why thoughts of his father came up so suddenly, after all, no matter how neglectful, John had never been abusive. But Dean couldn’t help but sympathize with this Dorothy girl, imagining how sweet her husband had been when they dated before turning sour after the marriage, him running off with other women before eventualy killing her.  
Dean had been combing through everything Sam had printed out about Dorothy Myers as they sat outside the little house where she had once lived, and he now suspected, had been killed in. Sam kept giving him strange looks; Dean didn’t do quiet but they had been sitting here for ten minutes flipping through articles.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go see if this son of a bitch is still awake.” he said abruptly. He had been reading through the papers hoping to find another explanation or at least quench his anger, but it hadn’t work. The old geezer would just have to face his wrath.

Only a few of the sun’s rays were still peaking up from the horizon bathing the little yellow house in orange light. It seemed like a good enough home. Concrete sidewalk leading to a ramp added for its aging resident, hedges on each side trimmed just long enough ago to show a bit of scruff, white shudders showing age but well painted. It was the picture of normal–aging with grace.  
Dean led the way up ramp, boots landing heavy on the pine boards, ringing the doorbell twice in a row as Sam and Cas came up behind him. There was movement on the other side before a younger woman is peach scrubs opened the door with an open smile.

“Hello, what can I do for you gentlemen?” she asked tilting her head slightly.

“Umn, hi, I’m Dean Wesson, these are my associates,” Dean said gesturing behind him. “We were wondering if Mr. Myers still lived here?”

“Yes, he does, is there something you need to speak with him about?” she asked, worry flashed across her face.

“We’ve been going through some cold cases and we may have a lead on what happened to his late wife,” said Dean. He gave her a reassuring smile hiding his bitterness.

“His late wife?” she said confused. “Elise dies five years ago of heart failure, how is that a cold case?”

Sam came forwards a step, a meaningful look on his face. Beneath the veneer Dean could see some lingering confusion. Sam had yet to connect the dots.

“We mean his first wife, Dorothy Myers. She has been missing for a very long time, but we think found her and we wanted to let Mr. Myers know, to bring peace.” Sam said softly, puppy eyes in full effect.

The woman brought a hand up to her chest, gasping quietly.

“Yes, come in. I’m sure Richard will love hearing about this,” she said inviting them in. “you can come into the sitting room, we were just about to get ready for bed, weren’t we Richard!” she said raising her voice to speak to the old man.

Richard looked up at them. He seemed confused as he motioned with his hand for them to sit on the sofa. The nurse went back out the living room door, footsteps making their way to the other side of the house where Dean heard a sink being run. Sam and Cas had sat down on the floral couch but Dean opted to sit on the hefty wooden coffee table directly in front of Richard’s recliner.  
The three of them seemed official enough with their button down and long coats from the church tour, but Dean wanted to cut the crap. No reason to sugar coat it for the old man–he’d brought this on himself after all.

Dean’s eyes bore into Richard’s. Sam and Cas didn’t speak as the two summed each other up.

“What are you here to talk about, boy,” Richard croaked out, clearing his throat after.

“I’m here because I know what happened to Dorothy.” the old man’s head snapped up in surprise. “I know what you did and now you get to know every other death that is your fault because of it and you’re going to help me find what I need to.”  
Richard’s face twisted, looking bitterly at Dean. Cas watched what Dean would do, and Sam glanced between them trying if figure out what he had missed.

“Let me lay it out, you tell me what I got right and wrong, then we get down to business.” Dean cracked his knuckles. “You married a nice girl with a good reputation, only problem? You couldn’t keep it in your pants, liked to visit friends. Dorothy didn’t like that you were unfaithful and finally said something on your fifth anniversary that you didn’t like–couldn’t face the consequences of your mistakes– so you killed her. Buried her in the backyard and claimed she ran off. Any of this sound about right, Dick?”  
The old man scoffed.

“She deserved what she got. I made good money, put a roof over her head, food in the pantry. She was just pissed because I got bored. What did she expect being a preacher's daughter, of course she was a bore!”

“She didn’t deserve to die for your problem and she has been letting you know ever since,” bit out Dean. He was more than pissed, and if Richard had been a solid thirty-five years younger Dean would have been more than willing to show the old dick what he thought. “Have you never noticed the deaths at the church across town where you two got married? Every five years a groom dies before their wedding from strange causes.”

“I don’t have anything to do with that–”

“Yes you do, you bitter old man.” interjected Cas. “How did you kill her? How!” Richard was taken aback for a moment before he answered.

“It started with her complaining so I said I’d just take the ring back. Well Dorothy wouldn’t have that so i was gonna teach her a lesson. Figured sending her over my knee would teach her a thing or to but she just bit me when I was done. Slapped her silly and took the ring, she screamed when I did. Couldn’t have the neighbors gettin’ into things that aren’t theirs to mind so I shoved her towards the counter. The stupid girl must have hit her head or something all i know it that she didn’t wake up so I took her out back where she’d been burning things of my before it all started and let her burn.”

He spoke with no remorse.

“Were you always so cold?” Dean asked bitterly. “Or had the years washed away your guilt?”

“She brought it on herself!” Richard hissed. Sam leaned forwards, eyes cold.

“Where are all her things you have left?” Sam asked. His voice was hard and sharp.

“I don’t have anything of hers anymore. Either burnt it or gave to Elise. All that stuff is long gone.”

“And the ring?” Sam pressed.

“Gave it to Elise and it got sent to the crematory with her, never even got it back,” he said almost lightly.

Sam met Dean’s eyes wondering the same thing. What was her spirit connected to?

“Is everything alright?” asked the home nurse, her brow creased.

“I think we’re finished here for today, we’ll bring by some additional paperwork tomorrow.” said Castiel loftily as he stood from the gaudy couch. Dean nodded shortly and stood, staring down the old man. Sam stood as well, rising to his full height–something he didn’t often do—as Dean quietly thanked the nurse.

~~

Dean slammed the motel door. His temper had gotten further out of hand that he had hoped. The whole case was making him antsy, but he couldn’t shake this underlying anger since he realized Richard had killed Dorothy. His hands shook with leftover adrenaline.

The door opened and closed again after him, only one set of footsteps on the crappy carpet.

“Dean, what was that back there?” asked Sam. Dean turned his back to his brother as Sam stepped closer. “You were almost out of control, Dean!”

“Yeah, well I guess I’ve had enough with cruel people, Sam” Dean said dodgily. He loosened the knot of his tie, throwing it into the open duffle on the floor.

“I get that this was weird case, even for us, but this seems-”

“What? Dramatic, excessive, not like me?” Dean spun to face Sam. “Yeah, Sam, this isn’t like me, but this case has me all kinds of turned around.”

“But why?” Sam’s voice was tight.

“Because she didn’t ask for a shitty husband, because she had to rely on someone who didn’t give two shits, because I’ve been there, Sam, with Dad. That was me! I raised you and never got more than an order from him. We were all just trying our best but goddamn it, he was obsessed and we were just kids but there we were in every motel from Boston to San Diego!” said Dean. His throat hurt with the effort to admit that John had been a subpar provider.

“I know Dad wasn’t the best but what does this have to do with the case?” confusion creased Sam’s forehead.

“Because Dorothy was trying to do best by her kids, Sam! She had two babies–one was barely walking. And I have been there.” Dean took a deep breath running his hand through his cropped hair. “Dad did his best, but more often than not his best just wasn’t enough, Sam.”

“I get that Dad was a little, I don’t know–lackluster? But it’s been years, Dean!”

“I know that, Sam, I know. But there is this part of me that can’t let go of this and I hate that old man with everything that I have and I can’t even stand to think about him but I’m so afraid of what Dorothy might be connected to.” his eyes darted to the ceiling, a stray tear threatening to fall as he sat down on the motel bed.

The hinges of the door creaked as Cas stepped into the room. He looked between the brothers, blue eyes dark with concern.

“I had the same thought, Dean.” Cas said.

“Richard burned all of Dorothy’s things, what could she be connected to?” pressed Sam.

Cas locked eyes with Dean before he answered.

“Dorothy’s spirit is connected to Richard,” Cas said slowly. Sam gasped silently in disbelief. “Richard would have to die for Dorothy to be released.like some dark version of what happened to Timmy.” Dean said. Sam wiped his face in disbelief, turning to sit on the other bed.

“So we can’t do anything…” Sam whispered. It seemed as if the whole room was in a trance after the fight the brothers had just had. Added onto by a blanket of calm as Dorothy’s fate became clear. “She won’t be at peace until Richard dies.”

“No, Sam, she won’t.” said Dean rising to his feet. Taking a deep breath, Dean walked out the door.

~~

Sam could hear Dean’s heavy footfalls as the thin motel door slammed. He could feel Castiel’s hot glare out of the corner of his eye, the intensity of the Angel’s gaze making the creak of the impala door being open seem far away.

“Sam,” Castiel said, voice sharp. “we talked about this yesterday, where did you understanding go?”

“It didn’t go anywhere, I just can’t understand why he brought Dad into this!” sa ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “We haven’t mentioned him in years, Castiel–you know that–so why now?”

“John had a huge influence on the two of you as children, especially dean. I may not entirely understand what it is that made Dean think of John, but it has. If anything this made my even more certain of my plan.”

“What plan?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“I don’t have confirmation right now, but when I do, I will let the two of you know."

Sam wiped at his eyes suddenly very tired. Castiel watched him for a long moment as Sam stared at the dingy carpet before winking away in a flurry of wing beating sounds.

~~

The lock of the Impala popped up and Dean slid into the passenger seat. He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. The soft wind-like sound of the highway only a few miles away lulled him into a half sleep. It felt like only a few minutes before the motel door hinges squeaked open.

Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel walking to the car. He leaned over to pop the driver’s side lock for Cas to climb in.

“I know I was a little harsh back there, you don’t need to lecture me,” Dean said.

“I’m surprised the topic never came up sooner,” said Cas “and there was no gentle way to say that Dorothy was trapped with Richard.”

“Yeah, I know. As far as Dad goes, we just…”Dean trailed of shrugging, “we never really brought in up after those first few months and after he died, that and I figured Sam already had enough bad memories of him.”

“It’s valiant that you still try and protect your brother,”

“That’s just how it always was, and I never would have brought it up if all of this stuff didn’t feel like it was floating on the surface ever since Michael.” Dean said breathing deeply to keep a hold on his emotions.

“What stuff?” asked Cas. Dean’s voice was tight so Castiel reached over and held his hand firmly.

“Memories, emotions, guilt, all kinds of stuff I thought I left behind. It’s just all boiling up to the surface, Cas.” Dean look at Cas, a tear had already rolled down one cheek.

Castiel gently pulled Dean across the bench seat wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders. Dean relaxed into the strong hold, another tear escaping. Cas smelled like clean laundry and spicy cologne. It was refreshing and strangely comforting. The two stayed in the impala long after dark, Dean falling into a gentle sleep leaning against Cas’ shoulder, the angel’s arm resting around Dean’s waist.

~~

Dean felt warm sunlight on his cheek. It was the kind of warmth that sank into your bones and made you feel like you were a kids waking up from an afternoon nap with you mom. He wasn’t in a bed, shifting slightly, Dean could feel the leather seat of the Impala against his hand.

Dean jumped as A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Taking a sleepy breath, he sat up slowly, squinting at the sun reflected off the hood of another car. He head had been pillowed on Cas’ thigh, the angel having stayed with him through the night.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice rough from sleep.

“Hey,” Cas started softly. “Sam’s still in the motel, I think he wants to talk to you.”

“He said what he thought, that’s all. He’s always seen things differently and I filtered most of the stuff with Dad, so it’s nothing I didn’t expect.”

“But?”

“But it still hurt, I guess,” Dean refused to look Cas. “I just never expected it to come back up–especially after so long. But, we’re here now I guess.” he trailed off quietly.

“Sam knows he doesn’t understand. It’s the curse of perspective, Dean. And after last night, I have to ask, should we really continue with this case? It doesn’t seem like there’s much we can do unless Richard dies.” pressed Cas.

“No, yeah, I can wrap this up.” Dean said hastily “wanna report him to the cops or something, I don’t think there’s a statute of limitations on murder.”

“Yes, I think that could bring more peace to this case,” Cas said gently, eyes softening as their gazes met.

~~

Officer Willard sat heavily in his desk chair and turn to the brothers as he searched up the case file. They were an odd pair and they claimed to be private investigators who had found out about an old cold case and felt compelled to see what they could find. The seemingly older of the two, with his short cropped hair and guarded demeanor, passed over a fairly thick file.

"This is all the printed research we have and I have an audio recording of an interview we did yesterday with the husband of the deceased to prove our claim."

"You do know this is a missing persons case, right?" Willard asked as he read through the county files about the case on his computer.

"Yeah, but we have reason to believe she was murdered," said the other brother who had longer hair and broad shoulders--no doubt an intimidating guy when necessary.

Willard nodded vaguely as he turned back to his computer screen, clicking through interviews from the original case and a possible paper trail the next state over to substantiate the missing persons theory. Of course a lot of detective work back then was fairly shoddy given their limited resources, but nothing about the case jumped out at Willard that could have piqued the interest of to P.I.'s.

"Could I have the audio clip, if you don't mind?" Willard asked.

"Sure," said the older brother--he had yet to catch their names--pulling his phone out and going into the audio files  
The sound started out with a fabric sound, the phone having been in someone's pocket at the time. A sharp knocking sound followed by a woman's voice came after a few beats, explaining that she was the home nurse. She spoke for a moment before bringing them into the house.

Willard could hear the brothers as well as a third man with a very deep voice speak with the husband of the missing woman. It all seemed normal, confirming identities and establishing a relationship to the missing, until the older brother laid out the case they had put together and the old man began to say horrible things and spoke shamelessly about killing his supposedly missing wife.  
Willard may have worked on the police force for a long while, but he had had the luxury of working in a quiet town, hearing someone admit to horribly killing another person with no shame or apology was beyond him.

"Going to need a copy of this to pass onto a detective, I'm afraid this isn't my area of expertise." He said, both brothers nodded and went stand.

"I can't thank you guys enough for bringing this in, I'll make sure this is handled as soon as possible." Willard shook the brother's hands before they left, leaving the growl of a muscle car in their wake.

~~

“Naomi, I need an answer,” Castiel side-eyed Naomi as she moved from her desk, seemingly just to frustrate Castiel.

“The only thing you need, Castiel, is patience.” she snipped at him.

“I don’t have time for this, if you won’t give me an answer I’ll find another option.” he said piginantly, turning to stare her down.

“You don’t have any other options, that’s why you came to me,”

“You know me and you know that I happen to have a very stubborn force of will, one that I had long before even meeting the Winchesters.” annoyance was smeared across Naomi’s face at his words.

“Well,” Naomi starts slowly, pointedly not making eye contact, “you and I both know it’s too good an offer for me to pass up. I still have a few details to sort through before you can bring Thing One and Thing Two into their Heaven, of course.”

“I’ll be ready within a week,” Castiel said, turning away to stalk down the echoey halls.

~~

The shoddy motel door opened, a cold draft of wind rushed in with Cas. An afternoon rainstorm had rolled into town not long after their visit to the sheriff’s department. Cas’ trench coat was damp, but he seemed to wrapped up in thought to bother doing anything about it.

“What’s up with you?” asked dean. Cas met dean’s eyes, they seemed more intense than normal, making dean sit up straighter from his place on the couch. “What’s wrong, cas?”

A guilty look flashed over the angel’s face for a second, glance between Sam and Dean as they stared at him.

“Nothing is wrong, per say, but we do need to have a conversation,” he said. Dean could feel his apprehension. Sam moved as to leave but Cas raised a hand slightly, “this is for both of you.”

“Okay,” Dean heard Sam say slowly, sitting back down next to dean.

Cas shoved his hands into his coat pockets. Dean’s jaw tightened in anticipation of what the angel would say. He couldn’t imagine what it could be, but somehow, he didn’t feel prepared.

“I’ve made arrangements for the two fo you to be able to reside in Heaven without dying,” Cas started. Dean lost his breath, chest tightening.

“You what?” he asked dumbly, voice rough.

“How is that even possible?” Sam asked, voice pitching.

“I know it sounds wrong, I really do, but you’ve grown away from hunting and Heaven has given you a way out that isn’t tragic.” Dean could hear Cas begging in the tone of his voice. But his mind and body seemed disconnected. Sam and Cas’ conversation faded out of dean’s thought. His mind was filled with the thought of Heaven.

Was that an option? Could they really have peace and never ending sunny days and no more hurt? Could they have had this all along?

The air around him felt thin and his mind was working too fast like the time when he was seventeen and Dad gave him those prescription pain pills. Dean stood and flew through the motel door in one swift motion, running into the cold rain. Everything inside his body boiled with the overwhelming feeling of too much.

Every breath he took felt heavy, the air having seemingly grown too thick. Water soaked through every layer on his body, his hands shook, his feet kept him moving across the parking lot and into the wooded area until the motel was no longer in sight. The rain pounding down onto the trees was the only sound dean could hear as his legs gave out under him, the dampness from the dirt leaving his butt especially cold. The wooded area was saturated in greens and browns. Dean had grown up roaming areas like this during training with Dad.

The world seemed to slow as he regained his breath, the rain never letting up. A stick snapped somewhere behind him making Dean’s heart speed up again. The faint sound of fabric against twigs and low leaves got closer until Cas sat down next to him.

“I’m sorry I ran out, I didn't mean to.” Dean said softly. He didn’t want to disturb the quiet around them.

“I know, Dean. I know I laid it out rather abruptly.” Cas reached out and took both of dean’s hands into his. Dean breathed deeply, his lips wobbling against his will.

“Was this an option all along? Could we have given up before everything really went to shit?” Dean gasped as he felt the jumble of emotions rise in his throat,seemingly suffocating him with uncertainty, a stray tear rolling down his cheeks just to fall on his already wet shirt.

“This isn’t giving up, Dean, it’s just letting go.” at his words Dean’s shoulders shook and he slumped over onto Cas’ warm shoulder. He grabbed the Angel into a crushing hug, rocking them back and forth. Dean pulled back enough to stare into Cas’ deep eyes. Taking a deep breath, dean leaned in and pressed against Cas’ lips, the angel pressing back heartily.

After a moment they separated gently, Castiel’s warm, calloused hand grazed over dean’s jaw and swiped at a tear still trailing down his cheek. Dean made a soft noise as he pecked Cas’ lips again, shoulders shaking with pent up emotions.

“Dean, I only want what’s best for you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Hunting has never good for you, now even more so than ever.” Dean closed his eyes against the oncoming emotions, shaking his head minutely, “I will never force you to go to Heaven, but I want you to know that you can let go of all of this weight and responsibility. We’ll all be safe and together, surrounded by peace.”

“Really trying to sell it aren’t you?” Dean said hoarsely, snuffing lightly.

“I want what’s best for you and Sam, and I think this might be it, Dean.”

“How does it even work? I, um, I didn't hear much after ‘I made a place for you in heaven.’” he asked, wiping his eyes.

“I made a deal with Naomi that the two of you could reside in you Heaven and in return she would have the guaranteed safety of an angel since I would stay with the two of you--if you wish that is.” Cas added hastily.

“Of course I wish, Cas, I wouldn’t-ya know- if I didn’t mean it.” Dean said with a smidge of a smile.  
Cas leaned forwards and pressed another warm kiss against Dean’s lips.

~~

“Come on, Claire, bring it in for your favourite funcle.” Dean said, opening his arms to wrap claire in a bear hug.

“‘Funcle?’ what the fuck is a funcle supposed to be?” she said, taken aback.

“Fake-uncle, fun-uncle, whatever floats your boat,” he said, shaking her head side to side lightly. Claire just tapped him on the stomach with her fist as she moved on to hug Sam.

“I still can’t believe Cas got you guys a free ride to Heaven, like, what’s with that?” she asked with a smile, side eyeing Cas playfully. “But for real though, I’m gonna miss you guys, not gonna have anyone share the dumbass gene with.”

“Sure you can, dumbasses always find each other.” Dean said, leaning against the Impala. The fender was warm against his backside, the sun slow roasting it on Jody’s driveway while they had the most awkward visit in history. Explaining to four women that you’re getting to Heaven without dying isn’t exactly standard protocol.

Jody and Donna handled it well, Claire had already been suspicious Cas was up to something, but Alex hadn’t looked them in the eyes until nearly the end. She eventually came around enough to hug the three of them before they left.

Dean had brought Claire outside with the three of them while Jack had desert with Donna before they left. They had been talking for a little while, but Dean wanted to get around to what he wanted to ask.

“Well, Claire, we didn’t bring you out here for the gushing compliments.” Dean started, “If you want it, Baby’s yours.” he said slowly.

“Oh my God, I think that physically hurt you to say,” Claire laughed then suddenly went silent. “...She’s mine? Like, I’m gonna make sure she doesn’t sit in an impound lot and remember to change the oil when she needs it?”

“Like, her days galavanting across the country with me are over, but she's still rearin’ to go. Need’s someone young to cares about her history.” Dean said. Though he would never admit it, his eyes welled just enough to sting, but he did better than Claire who’s whole face flushed in emotion.

She rushed forwards, crushing him in another hug. Dean could feel her shoulders shake softly under his hold. Pulling back, Claire wiped her cheeks, eyes red and watery.

“Why me?” she asked slowly, glancing up at him.

“Because you care,” Dean said, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket, taking Claire's hand and pressing them into it. Sam came up and rested a hand on her shoulder while Cas pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

Dean couldn’t help thinking that Heaven would have nothing on this.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! I really hope you'll let me know what you think in the comments!!!


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